Slammed

wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow night, before I go?"
     
    It's the first time anyone has ever referred to me as "Lake," other than my mom and dad. I like it. I lean my shoulder against the car too, and face him. I try to keep my cool, but inside I'm screaming with excitement.
     
    "Are you really going to make me admit that I have absolutely no life here?" I say.
     
    "Great! It's a date then. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty." He immediately turns and heads toward his house when I realize he never actually asked , and I never actually agreed .
     

2.
     
    "It won't take long for me
    To tell you who I am.
    Well you hear this voice right now
    Well that's pretty much all I am."
    -The Avett Brothers, Gimmeakiss
     

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
     
     
    The next afternoon, I'm picking out what to wear but can't seem to locate any clean, weather appropriate clothing. I don't own many winter shirts, besides what I've already worn this week. I choose a purple long sleeved shirt and smell it, deciding it's clean enough. I spray some perfume though, just in case it isn't. I brush my teeth, touch up my makeup, brush my teeth again and let down my ponytail. I curl a few sections of my hair and pull some silver earrings out of my drawer when I hear a knock on the bathroom door.
     
    My mother enters with a handful of towels. She opens the cabinet next to the shower and places them inside.
     
    "Going somewhere?" she asks. She sits down on the edge of the bathtub while I continue to get ready.
     
    "Yes, s omewhere ." I try to hide my smile as I put in my earrings. "Honestly, I'm not sure what we're doing. I really never even agreed to the date."
     
    She stands up and walks to the door, leaning up against the frame as she watches me in the mirror. She has aged so much in the short time since my dad's death. Her bright green eyes against her smooth porcelain skin used to be breathtaking. Now, her cheekbones stand out above the hallowed shadows in her cheeks. The dark circles under her eyes overpower their emerald hue. She looks tired. And sad.
     
    "Well, you're eighteen now. You've had enough of my dating advice for a lifetime," she says. "But I'll provide you with a quick recap just in case. Don't order anything with onion or garlic, never leave your drink unattended and always use protection."
     
    "Ugh, Mom!" I roll my eyes. "You know I know the rules, and you know I don't have to worry about the last one. Please don't give Will a recap of your rules. Promise?" I make her promise.
     
    "So tell me about Will. Does he work? Is he in college? What's his major? Is he a serial killer?" She says this with such sincerity.
     
    I walk the short distance to my bedroom from the bathroom and bend down to search through my shoes. She follows me and sits on the bed.
     
    "Honestly Mom, I don't know anything about him. I didn't even know how old he was until he told you."
     
    "That's good," she says.
     
    "Good?" I glance back at her. "How is not knowing anything about him good? I'm about to be alone with him for hours. He could be a serial killer ." I grab my boots and walk over to the bed to slip them on.
     
    "It’ll give you plenty to talk about. That's what first dates are for."
     
    "Good point," I say.
     
    Growing up, my mother did give great advice. She always knew what I wanted to hear, but would tell me what I needed to hear. My dad was her first boyfriend so I have always been curious how she seems to know so much about dating, boys, and relationships. She's only been with one person, and it seems most knowledge would have to come from life experiences. She's the exception, I guess.
     
    "Mom?" I say as I slip on my boots. "I know you were only eighteen when you met dad. I mean, that's really young to meet the person you spend the rest of your life with. Do you ever regret it?"
     
    She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she lies back on my bed and clasps her hands behind her head as she ponders my question.
     
    "I've never regretted it. Questioned it? Sure. But never regretted."
     
    "Is there a difference?" I ask.
     
    "Absolutely. Regret is counterproductive. It's looking back on a past that you can't change. Questioning things as they occur can prevent regret in the future. I questioned a lot about my relationship with your father. People make spontaneous decisions based off of their hearts all the time. There's so much more to relationships than just love."
     
    "Is that why you always tell me to follow my